by Jessica Berg
Grace opened her mouth in response, snapped it shut. She hardly knew how she felt. How was she supposed to explain it out loud? “Just wondering. That’s all.”
Fifteen minutes later, she dreamt of death. The unknown assailant stalked her repeatedly through the inky fog. Everywhere she ran, ghostly figures herded her back toward the unknown.
* * *
Dominick gripped the steering wheel of his truck harder than necessary to navigate the town’s quiet streets. “Mercenary,” he shouted out loud, punching the dashboard. “Of all the things she could have said.”
Coming to his street, he ignored his turn and drove right past it. He did not want his daughter to see him in this mood. As tempting as it was to drive around forever, he whipped a U-turn, released the hold he had on the steering wheel. He chuckled to himself when he pictured the steering wheel turning blue. “Sorry,” he gave it a pat, “didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you.”
It hit him so hard his head recoiled as if his jaw had received a right hook. He slammed on the breaks and pulled the truck to the side of the road. What have I done? He shook his head in disgust.
Grace was an innocent woman making an innocent remark, and he had pummeled her. What kind of a man does that? A foolish one. He raked his fingers through his hair and leaned against the headrest. “Mercenary.” The word rolled off his tongue like acid. Not entirely on the mark, but close enough. According to some, my killing for the U.S. government is not that different from that of a paid killer.
Cupping his head in his hands, he considered the irony.
Everyone in town knew about his wife’s death, knew it was tragic and unexpected, but only his two closest friends knew the whole story, and they had sworn not to tell under “pain of death.” Now along comes this auburn-haired spitfire of a woman who knows squat about his past, and she dang near nails it. “Remarkable!” Dominick threw his head back again and laughed out loud.
When the laugh was spent, so was his anger. He steered the truck back on the road toward home.
“Daddy!”
Dominick’s face lifted, and all traces of his dark mood vanished at his daughter’s voice, accompanied by the pitter-patter of her chubby little feet hitting the kitchen floor. He whipped her up in his arms and squeezed her to him, losing himself in his daughter for a few seconds.
“If Maybella says I was a good girl, can I get a treat?” Dominick kissed Lilly’s cheek. “Were you good, baby girl?”
Before Lilly could think of the correct response, the babysitter appeared from the living room. “Yes, sir. Little Lilly was great, as usual.”
“Treat!” Lilly scampered off to her room. Dominick sighed. He knew exactly what “treat” meant. He paid Maybella and sauntered off for an invitation-only tea party.
As he rounded the corner of Lilly’s room, he stopped in his tracks. Lilly had placed Mr. Bear across the table from herself and was busy conversing with it. “I’m glad you’ve come for a visit, Mommy. Daddy says you were nice and pretty.” Lilly pointed a chubby little finger to her nightstand. “I have a picture of you. Daddy says it’s okay to talk to you. He says you’d like it.” He watched as Lilly poured her “mother” more tea. “Thank you. I made it myself. Daddy doesn’t like tea. I’ll make him coffee.” Lilly picked at her lip and blinked at the picture next to her bed. “Daddy misses you, Mommy. I hear him cry at night. Daddies aren’t supposed to cry.”
He backed away from the door and slid to the floor. He had failed in protecting his daughter from his pain. She didn’t remember her mother’s arms hugging her, her lips kissing her tiny cheek. He did. Cradling his head in his hands, he closed his eyes. He missed her so … startled, he opened his eyes and stared unseeing at the ceiling. Grace’s face had flooded his mind’s eye, not his wife’s. The band around his heart loosened. Could his prison sentence to grief be over?
“Daddy? Mommy and I are waiting for you.”
He was ready to have tea with his daughter and the figment of his daughter’s imagination. His wife would have enjoyed the water tea, the pretend cakes, and simple conversation, usually revolving around Mr. Bear’s sleeping habits and the antics of Lilly’s pre-school friends. For his daughter, he would pretend that interacting with his dead wife was the most normal thing in the world.
Chapter 9
A persistent knocking on the hotel door woke Grace from a deep sleep. She glanced at the clock. Seven in the morning. Wiping the drool from her face, she slipped into her pink, fuzzy slippers, smoothed her hair, and dragged herself to the door.
She peeked through the peephole. Dominick stood outside the door holding a bakery bag and three steaming cups.
“What in the world is he doing here,” she whispered to herself. Her knee warmed where his knee had flirted last night, her shoulder tingled where his shoulder had rubbed less than twenty-fours ago. They ignored her reminder of his change, her humiliation. “I wonder what he’s got to say for himself.” Another knock on the door.
“Just a minute,” she said through the door and ran to the bathroom, clumsily pulling a brush through her hair and stealing Phoebe’s mouthwash. She peered owlishly at her reflection. Scary!
Standing with her legs spread apart in a fighting stance, she opened the door. He swaggered past her as cool and calm as an ocean breeze filled with the luscious smells of doughnuts, cappuccino, and his cologne.
“Smells yummy.”
His eyes traveled her body and stopped at her face and hair. Her fingers itched to preen. She kept them still. His chocolate eyes darkened by a few shades, twinkled with playfulness. “You like my cologne, huh?”
“I was referring to the doughnuts.”
“Sure.” He sat the bag on the tiny desk in the corner and sat on her bed. His gaze traveled from her shorts to her tiny tank top. “Nice slippers,” he drawled.
She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. “Usually, I kick impertinent men out of my hotel room, but beings you brought sugary goodness, you may stay.”
“Good. I came to apologize.” He stood, taking her hand in his. “Grace, I am sorry for the way I acted last night. I hurt you, and I am here this morning to ask for your forgiveness. Please can we be friends again?”
His callouses sanded against her skin. Her goosebumps danced with delight at the sensation. To befriend him would put her walls in danger of crumbling, but part of her wanted the walls gone, wanted to live again. Would he pull her to him softly, possessively? Would he devour her lips or simply sip at them?
Her fingers itched to smooth the jagged scar. Her body stepped to him, and she raised her lips to meet his descending ones.
Phoebe snorted.
Grace jumped away from his touch and grabbed the bakery bag. “Um, thank you for the treats.” She rooted around in the bag, retrieved a jelly-filled doughnut, and bit into it. A large glob of the raspberry filling fell on her shirt. “Crap.” She slicked it up with her finger and stuck it in her mouth.
“I should bring jelly-filled doughnuts every morning.” He grinned and jumped back on the bed. He patted the spot right next to him. “Come here for a second.”
“No.” Confused by the rules to the game they were playing, she glanced at Phoebe still snug as a bug in her bed. Can she sleep through anything? Drool trickled off the edge of Phoebe’s mouth and went splat on the white pillowcase.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to take advantage of you.” He gave a devilish grin. “Yet.”
She shook Phoebe’s foot. “Wake up, Phoebe. There is a strange man in our hotel room, and he comes bearing gifts.”
Phoebe snorted, stuck her butt in the hair, and flopped on her side. Cracking open one eye, she fixed her gaze on Dominick and gave a little finger wave. “I smell something scrumptious.”
Grace showed her the half-eaten jelly doughnut. “Doughnut?”
“Nu-huh.”
“Cappuccino?”
“Nope. Not it, either.”
“Me?” Dominick wiggled his eyebrow
s.
Phoebe sniffed in his general direction. “Yup.” A grin exploded over her face. “But, I bet you’re not as tasty as a jelly-filled doughnut.”
“Pheebs!” Grace blushed for her sister.
Phoebe shuffled to the bathroom. “Just preaching the truth, sister.”
Grace shuffled her feet. Sitting next to Dominick was a dangerous idea, especially with his wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing grin and the almost kissed that almost happened. Sitting on the chair in the corner would be rude, so she sat on Phoebe’s bed across from him.
“What brings you to our room at such an unholy hour on a Saturday?”
He snagged a chocolate-covered doughnut and sank his teeth into it. “I came to invite you girls on an outing today. It slipped my mind yesterday, or I would have invited you last night.” He gave Grace a sheepish grin. “Some friends and I are going to the lake this afternoon. Do you ladies want to come with?” He scanned the sparse contents of their hotel room. “Or you could stay here all day and wilt.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. It was true. She and Phoebe were at a loss as to what to do today. They didn’t want to work on the house, and sitting in this room held no appeal either. His faded Levi’s with a slit in one knee, a University of Kansas T-shirt, and untied tennis shoes did, however, hold a lot of appeal. The prospect of a day at the lake with him excited her, scared her.
“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“Who said you needed one?”
She sucked in a breath and choked on her own saliva. He slapped her on the back. She held up a hand. “Stop. I’m fine.” Clearing her throat, she reached for a steaming cup and carefully sipped the hot liquid.
He sat beside her. “I meant you can wear shorts and a shirt.” He scratched at his throat. “Of course, I’m not going to be the man to stop you if you want to go skinny dipping.”
“You are an incorrigible man. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Many times, Spitfire.”
Grace rolled her eyes and hopped off the bed. She knocked on the bathroom door. “Phoebe, did you fall asleep in there, again?”
An exclamation of pain filtered through the door. Phoebe’s voice mumbled, “Yeah. My leg fell asleep.”
“Need help?”
“No. I’ll be okay in a bit.”
Dominick chuckled. “You two are the oddest women I’ve ever met.”
“Maybe you should get out more.”
Phoebe came around the corner, snagged a doughnut, and bit into it. “Mmmmm … yummy.”
“Pheebs, Dominick has asked if we would be interested in joining him and his friends at the lake today.”
“Who all will be there?”
“Just a couple of buddies.” Dominick grinned as Phoebe stuffed a piece of doughnut in her mouth. “Noah will be there.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
Dominick nabbed a second doughnut and a cup. “I’ll be by to pick you up around 11:00. We’ll grill out for lunch, ride around in the speed boat, and hang out for the rest of the day.” He winked at Grace. “Remember, no swimsuit required.” And darted out the door.
Grace threw a pillow where he had been standing with that sexy grin on his face, that welcoming smile in his eyes. “Frustrating, presumptuous moron.”
“What was that all about?” Phoebe asked.
“Nothing. That man rubs me the wrong way.”
Phoebe’s hand paused, doughnut halfway to her mouth. “Now that’s a thought.”
Grace retreated to the bathroom, stepped into the shower, the hot spray beating her body numb. She vigorously shampooed her hair and mumbled Dominick’s pros: handsome, charming, funny, open smile. She rinsed her hair and listed the cons: a guy that good-looking couldn’t be up to something good, the charming smile often evolved into a smart-ass grin, and there was a mysterious side to him. Her body shivered in excitement. She stamped her foot and cursed herself. His charm would eventually infiltrate her guard, and she’d be putty in his hands.
“This is ridiculous.” She stepped out of the shower and dried herself off.
“What did you say?” Phoebe asked from the other side of the door.
“Nothing. I was talking to myself. I swear, I’m going crazy.”
“You’re only crazy when you answer yourself. Remember Aunt Cloe? When she started doing that, they stuck her in an institution.”
“Didn’t they stick her in the loony bin when she kept trying to stick her cats in various appliances. Didn’t she also eat puzzle pieces?”
“That’s beside the point. Anyway, she did try to stuff her cat, Cletus, in the microwave.”
Grace wrapped her hair in a towel, slipped her pajamas back on, and finished her beauty routine. A little make-up, hair pulled back into a messy bun, and sunscreen completed the regimen.
A rustling came from the bedroom area. “What are you doing in there?”
Phoebe came around the corner holding two bathing suits, a green two-piece and a pink one-piece. “What do you think? Should I wear the bikini or the one piece?”
“Depends on which one you feel more comfortable in.” Phoebe walked over to the mirror and lifted her shirt to reveal her abdomen. “Oh, that’s scary. I’ve had way too much fast food and calorie-soaked food.” Phoebe squeezed a roll on her belly. “This is disgusting.” She pulled her shirt down and vaulted herself on the bed, face in her pillow. “I’m not going. Noah’s going to think I’m fat.”
Grace sat beside her sister. “Pheebs, you look great. No one’s going to notice that small, minuscule love handle.”
Phoebe wailed into her pillow. Grace bit her lip. Probably not the best thing to say. She regrouped. “I read in a magazine somewhere that ninety-five percent of guys like girls with some meat on their bones.”
The wailing stopped, and Phoebe mumbled into her pillow, “Really?”
“Of course, would I lie to you?”
Phoebe peered at Grace through one eye. “Yes, you would.”
“Okay, maybe I would, but not this time.”
Phoebe rolled over on to her back and stared at the smoke detector. “Do you think that thing works? I don’t want to be fried to crisps in our beds.”
“Yeah, I wondered the same thing. Now get out of bed, get ready for the day, and wear the one piece.”
Phoebe shuffled to the bathroom. “Okay, you can have the bikini.”
Grace groaned and sank onto her bed. Great, now she was stuck with the stupid two-piece. What person in his or her right mind even created it in the first place? Probably a man.
She glared at the bikini and repeated Phoebe’s actions in the mirror and didn’t die with despair. Maybe the bikini would work. She slipped it on, surprisingly pleased with the result. The running is paying off. She slipped on black shorts and a yellow tank top over it.
* * *
Dominick pulled into the parking lot of the Super 8 hotel in his Ford pickup. He’d spent most of the morning washing his truck and praying. Praying he wouldn’t screw up, praying she could see past his rough exterior. Grace chipped at his soul. He couldn’t resist her anymore, wasn’t sure he wanted to. As if on cue, the ghost of his past reared up, mocked him. And what do you think she’d do if she knew?
He watched as Grace and Phoebe walked toward the truck. Even though his heart thudded like a thoroughbred’s hooves on the racetrack, he knew he had to at least try. I don’t know what she’d do, but for now, she doesn’t know, so shut up. Mentally he gave the ghost a swift kick in the rear.
“Nice ride,” Phoebe hopped in the backseat. “Thanks.” He held his hand out to Grace, still standing outside the passenger door. “Coming?”
She glanced at Phoebe perched happily in the backseat. “I’ll sit in back with Pheebs.”
Here it goes. This was going to be a difficult battle to win. Ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, he winked. “I don’t usually bite unless I’m asked.”
Chapter 10
Grace’s blood ran warm. She settled herself in the front pa
ssenger seat as close as possible to the door. Dominick and Phoebe made most of the conversation on the trip. Grace looked out the window, watching the prairie fly by, trying to figure out her conflicting emotions.
She wanted this, wanted him, but the hurt and humiliation from her first marriage still haunted her. She glanced at his profile. His long eyelashes, slightly crooked nose, and boyish grin over something Phoebe had said, enchanted her. He had changed into blue Hawaiian-style Bermuda shorts and flip-flops. A plain white undershirt covered his torso. Her blood heated from warm to boiling.
He locked eyes with her. Blushing, she whipped her gaze out the window. What am I going to do? Trees thickened, and the prairie vanished. They continued driving through the wooded area until they came to a clearing where a large lake shimmered in the sunshine.
“Well, here we are, ladies.” He put the truck into park and hopped out, pushed the driver’s seat forward, and assisted Phoebe out of the back seat. “My lady.”
Phoebe giggled. “You’re something, aren’t you.”
Grace mumbled, “I have another word.”
“Excuse me?” Dominick leaned his long body over the seat, his hand dangerously close to her bare leg.
She escaped out the passenger side door. People were already seated at picnic tables, and the smell of grilling chicken and hamburgers wafted in the air. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation.
“I’m a little nervous about meeting these people,” Phoebe stated over Grace’s shoulder.
“Me too.”
Dominick passed them carrying a large blue Igloo cooler. “Coming, ladies?”
Grace trudged along, Phoebe chattering nervously in her ear about hiding in the bed of the truck. Tempting.
He placed the cooler next to the other ones and started the introductions. “Ladies, this man right here with the Mohawk is the infamous Bruce. Ignore the hair. He lost a bet to me.” Bruce bobbed his mohawked head in a greeting. “The woman next to him is his fiancée, Lauren. She hates his hair and wants to kill me. The wedding is next week.”
